


Body Bound

by Anatui



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02, Digimon Adventure tri.
Genre: Bodyswap, Depressed Ichijouji Ken, Dysfunctional Family, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, High School, Homeostasis - More Like Homostasis, Homeostasis Is an Asshole, Jogress Bonds, Jogress Evolution | DNA Digivolution, M/M, Motomiya Daisuke | Davis Motomiya Has Low Self-Esteem, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anatui/pseuds/Anatui
Summary: It took a minute for his vision to clear. For his brain to tell him more than just his surroundings were off. For him to register the fact that in this strange bed, his body glistened a lovely golden tone—and he could tell because he was wearing nothing more than a pair of Badtz-Maru boxers, the angry little penguin glaring at him in the half-light.While, yes, he was definitely in Daisuke's bedroom, lying in Daisuke's bed, wearing a pair of Daisuke's boxers, he had not slept over. Also, his skin was not that color.ORAfter a failed attempt to Jogress, Ken and Daisuke wake up having swapped bodies.
Relationships: Ichijouji Ken/Motomiya Daisuke | Davis Motomiya
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34
Collections: Ana's 2020 Writing Challenge, Daiken Discord Server, Daiken Week 2020





	Body Bound

**Author's Note:**

> DAIKEN WEEK  
> Day 4: Body Swap/Share | Digimon Swap
> 
> The boys are in their final year of high school, so they're 17/18 years old.

They held up their digivices, screaming for XV-mon and Stingmon to Jogress-evolve. The Digimon nodded, determination etched on their faces.

But the digivices did nothing.

*

The alarm blared in his delicate ears, jolting Ken awake with little effort. He bolted upright, eyes wide, heart racing.

Strange. He rarely set an alarm.

The room was rarely this bright or this hot in the morning either.

It took a minute for his vision to clear. For his brain to tell him more than just his surroundings were off. For him to register the fact that in this strange bed, his body glistened a lovely golden tone—and he could tell because he was wearing nothing more than a pair of Badtz-Maru boxers, the angry little penguin glaring at him in the half-light.

Did he stay at Daisuke's last night? Why couldn't he remember?

But no, that would be the simple answer.

And this was not a simple situation.

Because while, yes, he was definitely in Daisuke's bedroom, lying in Daisuke's bed, wearing a pair of Daisuke's boxers, he had not slept over.

Also, his skin was not that color.

He needed a mirror. Immediately.

Ken dragged the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around himself, hoping against hope that he'd find Daisuke making food in the kitchen or something on his way to the bathroom.

All he found was Mr. Motomiya reading the paper at the table, much like his own father did on the weekends, and Mrs. Motomiya was dumping some eggs on a couple plates, cooking breakfast just like his own mother did for him every morning, though these eggs didn't look particularly good. Certainly not as good as Daisuke's.

But when they looked over, surprised eyes captured by his scurrying, Mr. Motomiya let out a chuckle and said, "Whoa, somebody's up early. Maybe you won't be late this morning."

Mrs. Motomiya laughed too, eyes crinkling at the corners, but if she said anything, Ken didn't hear her.

He was already slamming the bathroom door shut.

He stood in front of the mirror for a long time, eyes clamped shut, too scared to look at his own face—scared it wasn't actually his face.

_Knock, knock!_

Somebody was rapping their knuckles against the door.

Ken jumped, eyes flying open, dropping the blanket, but he froze again at the sight in the mirror.

"Daisuke, hurry up!" Mrs. Motomiya called through the door. "Your dad has to get to work soon. Oh, and I need you to take the recycling when you go."

He chewed his lip, entranced by the view of his half-naked best friend staring back at him. He'd only ever caught glimpses of Daisuke in his boxers. He'd never had the opportunity to blatantly stare at his bare chest or the taut muscles of his abdomen, the little trail of cinnamon-colored hair leading downward beneath the boxers.

There were so many things he wanted to see, to explore, to touch while the opportunity was undeniable.

Ken frowned.

But that wasn't right, and there were far more pressing matters.

Like, why in the world was he inside Daisuke's body? How had he wound up here? Or was this just a dream? Was his stupid crush getting to his head?

" _Daisuke!_ Get your ass moving before you make your father late too!"

And if he were here inside Daisuke's body, was Daisuke inside his?

*

"Sweetheart…"

Daisuke shifted on the mattress, burying his face in the pillow.

"Time to wake up, sweetie. You have to get ready for school."

Fuck.

He had to still be dreaming. There was no way his mother was this nice, and the room was still so dark. It was still night.

There were a few moments of peace and quiet.

Then, the door squeaked open. "Ken-chan, are you feeling all right?"

What?

Daisuke jumped up and nearly fell off the loft bed. His heart was racing, pounding hard in his chest, and Mrs. Ichijouji was staring at him like he was sick and needed her to take care of him.

Was she talking to him? Was she calling _him_ Ken-chan?

What the fuck?

"Uh, yeah, I feel great," he said, trying to calm himself.

She sent him a skeptical glance but nodded. "Would you like some pancakes for breakfast?" She took hold of the doorknob again, moving toward the living room. "I made that lovely strawberry compote yesterday."

Daisuke immediately started salivating. "That would be so cool," he said, practically ready to jump off the loft bed to devour food she hadn't even made yet.

Despite some rather obvious signs of confusion, hesitation, Mrs. Ichijouji smiled and said, "All right, sweetie. You start to get ready for school while I make the pancakes, okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah…Mama."

Once she was gone, Daisuke shifted around the bed, assessing the situation.

Yes, he was definitely in Ken's bedroom, wearing Ken's lavender pajamas, and his hands and legs and hair and everything were also Ken's. It was easy to tell with the tousled inky-black locks falling in his eyes.

He ran his fingers through the hair, teasing the silky strands like he always wanted to, touching it the way he wanted to touch Ken.

Daisuke collapsed back on the mattress with a heavy sigh and eyed the thick pajamas. How in the world was Ken comfortable in these heavy things? He wanted to tear them off, wanted them gone.

He froze.

How was he supposed to change his clothes without seeing Ken's body? Without looking at Ken's body? Without _touching_ Ken's body?

It didn't help that he desperately _wanted_ to touch Ken's body, and now, here it was, within reach. It would take no effort at all to strip off these pajamas and run his hands over Ken's pale skin, to caress the soft curves of his body.

He couldn't, though.

Yes, if this were a dream, touching wouldn't be a problem. Fuck, touching would be his number one priority. But Daisuke wasn't certain this was a dream. Everything was far too vivid.

"Ken-chan?"

He looked over, surprised, but at the sight of Wormmon, concern etched in the little caterpillar's eyes, he silently berated himself. Of course Wormmon was there. Where else would it be?

He cleared his throat and forced a smile. "Morning, Wormmon," he said, reaching out to pet the creature.

But Wormmon stared at him hard, concern making way for suspicion, and Daisuke's skin crawled under the watchful eye of Ken's protective partner Digimon. If Wormmon was suspicious, if Wormmon didn't trust him, this would be a far more difficult day that it was already looking to be.

Thankfully, Ken's D-Terminal beeped.

Daisuke hesitated before plucking it up, only to see an email from…well, from Motomiya Daisuke.

All it said was: _Call me._

Daisuke had never gotten out of bed so quickly.

Less than a minute later, he stood in the living room with the phone pressed to his ear, listening to the line ring, waiting, waiting, waiting for someone to pick up. Waiting for himself to pick up.

Then, he did.

"Daisuke?"

Fuck.

That was his voice, but he knew immediately it was Ken.

"Oh, thank god," he sighed into the mouthpiece. "I thought I was going insane. What the fuck is going on?"

Wormmon settled onto the armrest nearby, watching him carefully. Its eyes widened imperceptibly at his language.

On the other line, Ken sighed, sounding particularly exasperated in Daisuke's voice. "I have no idea, but we need to figure it out. Can you meet me?"

"Where?"

There was no way he was pretending to be Ichijouji Ken all day and going to Azabu of all places. Ken's high school was one of the most distinguished prep schools for boys in Tokyo. Daisuke would just curl up and die after his curriculum at Tsukishima.

Ken paused, considering. "Koushiro-san's office."

He nodded. "Right. If anyone can figure out what the hell's going on, it's him."

"Exactly." Ken sighed again, this time more with relief than anything. "It should only take you twenty—"

" _What the hell are you doing on the phone? You're not even dressed._ "

Daisuke winced at the sharp tone in his mother's voice. Poor Ken shouldn't have to deal with that. Not when his own mother was in the kitchen making pancakes.

And Ken's complete lack of response only proved to emphasize how out of his element he was.

" _Put some clothes on before you're late—again,_ " she snapped. Did she have any idea how easily her loud voice came through the phone? " _No one wants to see you walking around in your underwear anyway._ "

"Fuck," Daisuke murmured into the phone. "I'm sorry."

Ken quickly whispered, "No, no, it's fine. I'll see you soon," before hanging up.

Daisuke held the phone pressed to his ear for a minute longer, body quivering with unease.

They really needed to sort this out. Ken shouldn't have to go through that, shouldn't have to listen to anyone talk to him like that. Ever.

Ken, of all people, deserved so much better. He should've been _here_ with the soft-spoken, doting mother who adored him.

Not listening to Daisuke's mother's stern voice, berating him.

There was a reason Daisuke preferred spending the night at the Ichijoujis' apartment instead of his own, though Ken rarely understood that.

With how his parents loved Ken, practically worshipped Ken, it was no surprise that Ken hadn't realized why Daisuke preferred to be away from home. They were always so nice to him, even seven years after that first meeting. They still didn't understand how Ken put up with him, but they were more than willing to feel special because the genius Ichijouji Ken stooped to be their stupid son's best friend.

"What does Ken-chan think we should do, Daisuke?"

The soft sounds of Wormmon's voice broke him out of his stupor, and he turned to the caterpillar Digimon with wide eyes.

Then, he laughed.

He replaced the phone and turned to the Digimon to pick it up. "Can't get anything past you, Wormmon." And he was incredibly glad for that fact, hugging the sweet caterpillar to his chest.

Despite the situation, Wormmon preened at the compliment and attention.

"Well, we're going to meet Ken at Koushiro's office," he said, pulling back to look the Digimon in the eyes.

His stomach grumbled.

"After we eat," he quickly amended. Then, he frowned. "Think you can help me fool Baa-san? I don't want to worry her before we know what's going on."

Wormmon nodded.

*

It was no surprise that Ken and Chibimon—who had been too passed out to notice any of Ken's panic in the last hour—reached Koushiro's office first. Daisuke, of course, had to travel all the way from Tamachi, and even if he didn't have to take a twenty-minute train ride, he was perpetually late to everything anyway.

Koushiro looked up in surprise when Ken knocked, pushed open the door, and peeked his head inside.

"Oh, uh, Daisuke-kun!" He smiled and motioned him inside the room with a little laugh. "Shouldn't you be in school? You won't graduate if you keep skipping to talk to me about Ken-kun."

Ken froze only halfway inside the office, a flush rising to his cheeks.

Why in the world was Daisuke talking to Koushiro about _him_? No one knew Ken better than Daisuke—what in the world would Koushiro have to say on the matter?

He took a deep breath, finished closing the door, and turned to face his friend and oftentimes mentor. "Ah, Koushiro-san," he said, bowing politely, "I'm afraid it's not quite so simple today."

Koushiro's eyes were wide when he met them.

Daisuke never acted like _that_.

Behind him, the door burst open, and Ken's body, Wormmon clasped against his chest, stumbled through the door, bumping his head on the frame. He bent over, cussing, as the door slid closed, and Wormmon jumped down from his arms.

Yes, Daisuke acted like that.

Their eyes met, Daisuke rubbing his forehead, mussing up Ken's normally pristine hair in the process, and a sheepish smile spread across his face. It looked entirely out of place on Ken's face, but Ken smiled back anyway.

"Explain," Koushiro said, gesturing for them to occupy the chairs. "What's going on?"

Daisuke plopped down first, the sleek Azabu uniform he wore looked particularly disheveled, necktie off center and uneven. Ken settled into the seat across from him, Wormmon jumping onto his lap without question, and Chibimon yawned sleepily before bouncing over to its proper partner and collapsing against his stomach. They probably looked quite strange like this.

"Hmm," Koushiro said, curious eyes darting between them, and leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his chest.

Ken licked his lips, uncertain. "Well, the problem is, we don't know what's going on, Koushiro-san."

Daisuke sat forward, legs spread wide in a position Ken's body had probably never used—Chibimon barely managed to move before being squished. "Really, Koushiro! We just woke up like this."

Frown firmly in place, Koushiro settled his gaze on the strangely energetic person inside Ken's body and said, "Daisuke…?" Then, he switched to his other guest. "And Ken."

Ken nodded.

Koushiro pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're in the wrong bodies," he said slowly. "You _switched_ bodies. And you say you woke up like this?"

"Exactly!" Daisuke cried. "Yesterday, we were normal, and today, _this_ happened." He gestured wildly between the two of them, the dark locks flipping around at the haphazard movements.

Ken took a deep breath to try to settle himself. He was overheated—Daisuke's body had always been particularly warm, and it was burning him up—so he adjusted Wormmon and leaned forward to slip off the light-blue Tsukishima blazer. "I don't understand how this happened," he said. "To my knowledge, nothing like this has ever happened before, digital or otherwise."

Their senpai nodded, mouth twisted in concentration. "Yes, it is particularly strange."

Daisuke grumbled. "It's not just strange, trust me. This is so fucked up."

Ken rarely felt the need to use such language, but it seemed appropriate here, now.

"Wait."

They turned to Koushiro.

He was studying Daisuke carefully. "You said everything was normal yesterday—"

"Right," Daisuke confirmed, nodding vigorously.

"—but it wasn't." His eyes darted between them again. "The two of you couldn't perform Jogress in the battle yesterday. Silphymon and Shakkoumon had to fight the virus on their own, and they didn't win. The virus slipped back into the Net."

Ken frowned. "Yes," he said, Daisuke's normally exuberant voice resigned. "We failed."

"Hey," Daisuke snapped, "we went over this last night. Do not talk like that. Dwelling on it won't help."

He scoffed. "So what will?"

But Koushiro waved away their argument. "Could that have caused this?"

Ken sent him a curious look. "How could Jogress cause this?"

"I dunno," Daisuke said, "that makes sense to me."

"And even if it is the cause," Ken continued, shooting his partner a glare, "how do we fix it? We cannot stay like this forever."

"We can't stay like this another hour!" Daisuke cried, jumping in his seat, a deep flush coloring Ken's pale cheeks.

That made Ken pause.

Of course Daisuke wouldn't want to be trapped in someone else's body—Ken didn't either—but that was an oddly desperate tone of voice. What had Daisuke so on edge? Why was he so desperate to avoid staying inside Ken's body? And why was he blushing?

Ken looked down at his own body— _Daisuke's_ body—and shifted uncomfortably.

This situation was quite awkward. He'd managed to use the toilet without looking or touching anything too intimate, and he'd gotten dressed immediately after disconnecting the call. He'd been panicked, but he should have done it sooner, should have covered up Daisuke's half-naked body to protect it from his own prying eyes.

Slowly, a blush rose to his own cheeks.

He didn't want to admit how much he had wanted to look, had wanted to touch the body he was currently trapped in. He didn't want Daisuke to know how much he wanted to touch him.

"I could run some tests, but we wouldn't get any information from that for a while. Still, we can work on other problems while waiting for the results."

Thankfully, Koushiro knew just how to kill the tension.

Ken cleared his throat. "So you think this is related to Jogress? To the Digital World?"

He frowned. "It's hardly much to go on," Koushiro said, voice low with irritation, "but when things go awry, I find the Digital World the most likely source. And your failed Jogress evolution yesterday is strange—the two of you have always been incredibly in sync, more so than any other pair, including Taichi-san and Yamato-san."

Despite the difficult situation, and the blush still on his cheeks, Daisuke grinned with pride—an odd look on Ken's typically reserved face. "Of course we are!"

But Ken scooted back in his chair and pulled his legs up onto the cushion with him. Wormmon pressed closer, a comfort like always.

Daisuke froze. "What's wrong?"

"Hmm?"

"Look at me."

Worrying his lip, Ken shifted his gaze back to his partner and best friend. "It's just, why couldn't we Jogress yesterday? Why didn't it work? If we're so in sync, so in tune with each other, why did we fail?" He took a deep breath and let his eyes fall shut. "It must be me. I have done something to upset our balance. I'm ruining it again."

"Stop it," Daisuke snarled, garnering Ken's attention again. Daisuke was leaning even farther forward, blue-violet eyes narrowed in a sharp glare that sent uncomfortable memories of cruelty in the form of a blue cape and a taut whip down Ken's spine. "Nobody talks about my best friend like that, not even you. You didn't fuck anything up."

"I must have," was all Ken could manage to say, voice small.

"We're going to figure this out," Daisuke said, determination in every word. "We always do. And we do it together."

*

Koushiro ran a bunch of tests. Took samples and stared at data and a bunch of other things Daisuke didn't understand. None of it seemed to be immediately helpful, and their conversations didn't lead anywhere else, so he sent them home. They were supposed to rest and eat and _talk_.

"Since this is only happening to the two of you and is possibly related to your Jogress partnership," Koushiro had said as he pushed them toward the door, "it's likely you need to discuss the situation more, just the two of you. I'll call you the moment I get some results and let you know if we have anything useful."

Ken, of course, was more than willing to leave it at that, but Daisuke was impatient.

They grabbed lunch at a cafe and ate in silence, and when it was reasonably close to the end of the school day, they took the train to Tamachi to hide themselves away in Ken's bedroom, where they wouldn't be bothered. Mrs. Ichijouji would be working at the coffee shop for a couple more hours, and these days, she generally left them alone once she provided them with snacks.

At the Ichijoujis' apartment, Ken and Daisuke sat on the loft bed, their backs pressed against the wall, and stared at their hands. Wormmon and V-mon went to the kitchen to eat snacks and give them privacy.

After all, they needed to talk.

"So…"

Daisuke tapped his foot on the railing. "So we need to figure this out, don't we?"

Ken nodded solemnly.

"Because we really can't stay like this." Against his will, agitation leaked into his voice, and he desperately tried to rein it in. "I need to be in my own body. I'm sure you do too."

"Definitely," Ken said. A little too fast.

Daisuke narrowed his eyes. "Hey! What's wrong with _my_ body?"

Ken's eyes widened, pink tinging his cheeks. "I, um—"

"I'll have you know I have a great body!"

Ken's face was on fire now, and he wouldn't meet his eyes.

Then, Daisuke realized what he'd said and looked away too, a brilliant blush covering his face.

If he weren't careful, he'd give everything away, and letting Ken know how he felt was not what they needed right now. They'd been best friends for nearly seven years, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin the most important relationship in his life, aside from the little blue dragon Digimon probably stuffing itself in the Ichijoujis' kitchen.

"Yes," Ken said slowly.

Daisuke cocked his head.

"You do."

"Huh? I do _what_?"

For a moment, Ken didn't speak, and Daisuke turned to look at him. It was insane that looking at Ken meant he was looking at himself.

But so was Ken.

"You have a great body," Ken said in a hushed voice, eyes downcast, and Daisuke's breath caught in his throat at the sight of his own hand—under Ken's direction—spread across his abdomen, a couple fingers toying with one of the buttons on his white Tsukishima button-up.

"Oh."

Ken sucked on his lip, cheeks a bright pink. "I, uh, haven't looked by the way. Not more than I'd already seen anyway. You slept in your boxers."

Daisuke nodded mutely.

He always slept in his boxers these days, especially during the hotter months. And that wasn't any different from wearing swimming trunks, right?

Yet, the idea of Ken studying his bare skin, trying to discover who and where he was, sent a thrill of arousal down Daisuke's spine. The idea of Ken's hand moving over his skin, exploring the body he was trapped inside, both feeling himself and feeling Daisuke at the same time.

Fuck.

That's what he wanted to do to the body he was in, Ken's body. He wanted to touch all over, to feel the smooth texture of Ken's skin, and even more, to learn how to pleasure this body.

What better way to do that than to _feel_ the pleasure coursing through his veins? If he knew what it felt like, he'd know just how to touch Ken, how to make Ken sob and moan with pleasure, how to drag Ken to the brink and help him over the edge. And god, he wanted to make Ken feel that good more than anything in the world.

Daisuke swallowed, trying to temper his arousal, but the bulge under the dark gray slacks was obvious—and it wasn't going away any time soon. "You can," he murmured. "If you want."

Ken's fingers caught on the button, and he turned to look at him, a flush on his cheeks. "I can?"

"Yeah." He nodded sharply. "If you want to look, go ahead.'"

But even with permission given, Ken's fingers hesitated, and he stared, eyes boring into the side of Daisuke's face until he finally met his intense gaze.

Ken wetted his lips. "Do you want me to?"

Daisuke opened his mouth, but all that came out was a small whimper. Words were impossible.

" _Oh_."

Ken had found the bulge under Azabu's black slacks, and he was staring, considering, trembling, eyes dilated, breath short. And Daisuke was positive he wasn't imagining that reaction.

"So you _do_ want me to look," Ken said, voice thick with emotion, with arousal.

Hell yes.

Absolutely.

But all he could manage was a nod.

Ken's fingers tugged at the bottom button, loosened it, slowly moved upward, undoing buttons as he went. He paused every once in a while to dip the fingers under the shirt, tracing them over muscles and bones and golden skin, then paused again to loosen and remove the blue tie, until finally the shirt was wide open and Ken could shrug it off his shoulders.

Once free, the hands explored again, gently caressing golden-toned skin, grazing pert nipples, before they trailed down to the waist of his indigo slacks.

Daisuke whimpered.

Callused hands grasped the narrow belt and languorously undid the buckle, then the button and the zipper of the slacks themselves. When Ken pushed those slacks over his narrow hips and down his legs, Daisuke was pleased by the reveal of the rather obvious hard-on beneath.

The idea that Ken was as into this as he was dragged a moan from his lips—and knowing that sound is how Ken would sound when they finally fixed things made him ache with arousal.

Ken kicked off the slacks, kicked them down to the floor far below, and when he said, "Daisuke," eager, wanton, desperate, he was breathless.

"Yeah?"

His hand covered the bulge in his boxers, and Ken's eyes fluttered shut as a soft whimper escaped his mouth. "Daisuke," he moaned, "you too. I want you to look too. Touch yourself. _Touch me_."

Daisuke didn't waste time. He quickly shed the Azabu uniform, not caring how wrinkled or disheveled it wound up, piled on the floor, but the hard-on that peaked his black underwear made him pause.

He was about to see Ken's cock.

Ken was about to see his.

If he did this, if _they_ did this, there was no going back.

Beside him, Ken moaned loudly.

One quick look revealed he'd already slid a hand under the hem of the boxers and was gripping himself firmly, head thrown back against the wall, mouth agape.

It was strangely erotic seeing himself in that position, so overcome by pleasure that he couldn't think straight—and knowing that was Ken, knowing _Ken_ was the one giving in to the desire, left a wet spot on the black underwear.

If he didn't reveal himself soon, reveal Ken's aching length, he was going to come without even touching himself. And as hot as that sounded, he wanted to touch Ken, wanted to pleasure Ken more than anything. Even if that meant pleasuring himself.

He slipped off the underwear—then spent a long minute staring at his erection, tracing fingers along the shaft, whimpering as how sensitive he was.

Ken scooted closer, boxers abandoned now, and pressed firmly against his side. "Like this," he whispered into Daisuke's neck, sending pleasant shivers down his spine, and he took hold of the newly revealed hard-on.

His strokes were firmer than Daisuke used on himself, even painful, but he clenched his eyes shut because that pain felt so fucking good. He pumped him, rough, hard, and unrelenting, and Daisuke was trembling and falling apart under that firm touch.

Tears stung his eyes.

The time of being able to form coherent thoughts had long left him.

Ken had abandoned his own arousal to take care of him, and all Daisuke knew was he didn't want Ken to miss out. He snaked a hand between Ken's arms and wrapped his hand around the very familiar length—Ken's movements stuttered in response but did not stop.

When he swept his thumb over the dome, smearing slick pre-come across the head, Ken gasped.

"Fuck," was all Daisuke could say.

Ken, all tongue and teeth, latched onto his throat, licking, scraping his teeth over the tender flesh, sucking hard enough to leave a mark on the pale skin.

Daisuke took a quivering breath, trying not to lose himself already, not to explode under Ken's attentions, but then Ken released his neck and captured his lips instead.

This was…not how he'd pictured his first kiss with Ken. Not by a million years.

But the passion, the enthusiasm, the absolute adoration sent him reeling, and he threw himself headfirst into that affection. Ken tasted his mouth, sucked on his tongue, and bit his lip hard, and it went straight to his cock.

Daisuke couldn't tell whether he really liked the rough treatment, or whether it was Ken's body that craved it.

Either way, he threw himself into it completely.

He tried his best to take care of Ken while Ken took care of him, to pay as much attention to Ken's needs as his own needs were taken care of.

But he wasn't surprised when Ken pulled back from the kiss to lap and suck at his collarbone. He wasn't surprised by how good it felt when Ken sucked the tender skin, leaving dark marks on his neck, sucked so hard he spilled, hot and slick, in Ken's hand.

Ken continued to kiss and suck at his neck, slower now but still determined, and Daisuke turned his full attention to leading his best friend down the same path to pleasure.

He must've been close because he came a moment later, moaning and crying against Daisuke's throat.

When they lay back on the mattress, their lips connected in a lazy kiss, they didn't care that they were sweaty and sticky with come. They didn't care about the fact that they were still trapped in each other's bodies. They didn't care about what the fight that lay ahead.

All that mattered was this moment, lying in each other's arms, feeling their heartbeats reverberating through each other's chests, and sharing the longest kiss humanly possible.

*

Koushiro set down his bottle of oolong tea and glared at the data on the screen.

The data hadn't gotten him anywhere, but what was more frustrating was the fact that neither Daisuke nor Ken had responded to his phone calls or emails.

The Motomiyas had no idea where Daisuke was, which didn't seem to be a strange occurrence, and there had been no answer at the Ichijoujis' apartment. The emails, of course, were waiting on their D-Terminals, and at least there he could leave them some real information.

He cursed under his breath and leaned back in his chair.

If he couldn't get in contact with them, he certainly couldn't do anything to help them. Not that he had any idea how he could achieve that, of course.

"You worry too much, Bearer of Knowledge."

Koushiro nearly fell out of his chair.

Mysteriously wrapped in his gravity-resistant red cape, Hackmon perched atop the back of one of his armchairs—a sight which only made Koushiro want to curse again.

"Hackmon," he said, surprise lacing his voice. "We haven't seen you since…"

Those memories, those days, manipulated and controlled by Yggdrasill or Homeostasis or both, weren't something he wanted to go back to.

"What are you doing here, Hackmon?"

The Digimon assessed him in eerie silence for a long minute before finally speaking: "You needn't worry. What your young friends are experiencing will pass in its own time, in its own way. They are already in the process of breaching the gap and healing their bond. No action on your part is necessary."

Koushiro narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?" He glared down at his hands, his utterly useless hands, and repressed an angry sigh.

"Your worries are futile, human."

When he looked up again, Hackmon was gone.

The Digimon was as manipulative and unhelpful as ever, but it was right about one thing: Worrying about Daisuke and Ken when he hadn't even had the chance to talk to them was futile. He could examine the data again, see if there was something he'd missed, but he couldn't force them to contact him.

When they got his messages, they would call.

*

The room was dark and warm and pleasant in all manners of the word, and Ken stretched, his arms hitting one end of the bed and his legs hitting the other as hot breath spanned across his back.

His mother kept asking if the bed had gotten too small for him—he'd had two very big growth spurts in the last couple years—but he would never bother them with something so silly. He and Daisuke were planning to move in together when he started at Tokyo University in the spring anyway, which was more at Daisuke's insistence than anything else.

_Daisuke! Get your ass moving…_

Ken couldn't blame him for wanting to move out in the slightest.

_No one wants to see you walking around in your underwear anyway._

His eyes flashed open at the realization.

Those words had been spoken to _him_. Not to Daisuke, not really. They'd been said to him when he'd _been_ Daisuke.

Ken took a tentative breath and looked down at his body.

He was still naked, and a series of hickeys and teeth marks marred his otherwise smooth, pale skin. And if those were anything to go by, the love bites at his neck would be particularly dark and obvious.

But the important thing was this: He was in his own body again.

As a wave of relief and undeniable joy crashed into him, he shifted to get a good look at the other person in his bed.

Daisuke was curled on his side, facing toward him, quietly snoring away the morning in a way that was far cuter than it logically could be. Just like every normal day, his skin looked like it had been kissed by the sun itself, golden, lovely, and perfect, and his cinnamon-brown hair was mussed to one side with sweat.

Despite this, he was still the best thing Ken had seen since the start of this uncomfortable journey, since a long time ago.

A bravery he only ever felt around Daisuke flooded his chest, and he leaned close to press a kiss to those delicious lips. Lips he never wanted to stop kissing.

Somehow, in the middle of complete insanity, he and Daisuke had crossed a line they couldn't uncross, but he wasn't complaining. It was a line he'd wanted to cross for a long time, though one he'd assumed they never would.

Daisuke moaned and wrapped his arms around Ken's neck, dragging him closer, their naked bodies flush, skin to skin.

Somewhere down below, among the piles of haphazardly thrown clothing, their digivices beeped incessantly, and a blue and green glow washed over his bedroom, lighting up their bare skin as they twisted and entwined on the bed.

If Ken had to hazard a guess, he'd say they could Jogress-evolve again, but right now, he had no interest in doing anything other than staying in bed with Daisuke, kissing Daisuke.

And if Daisuke's needy groans and fierce kisses were anything to go by, he felt the same.


End file.
